Sketch of Handel and Beethoven

I have given you a quotation from the principal daily paper of the period we are now speaking of; allow me to give you another. In the "Daily Post" of the 18th April, 1738, there is the following announcement: —

"We are informed, from very good authority, that there is now nearly finished a statue of the justly celebrated Mr. Handel, exquisitely done, by the ingenious Mr. Roubilliac, of St. Martin's Lane Statuary, out of one entire block of white marble, which is to be placed in a grand nich, erected on purpose, in the great grove of Vauxhall Gardens (The great grove at Vauxhall Gardens! – Sic transit gloria mundi), at the sole expense of Mr. Tyers, undertaker of the entertainment there, who, in consideration of the real merit of that inimitable master, thought it proper that his effigy should preside there, where his harmony has so often charmed even the greatest crowds into the profoundest calm and most decent behaviour."

And in the following copy, that of the 2nd May, 1738, there is the following: —

"Last night Vauxhall was opened, and there was a considerable appearance of both sexes. The several pieces of music played on that occasion had never been heard before in the gardens: the company expressed the greatest satisfaction at the marble statue of Mr. Handel."

Some of you may have seen this marble statue in the great grove at Vauxhall Gardens. I never have; but we may all see the self-same statue any day, in the great room at Exeter Hall.

Apropos of a statue – England has shown great gratitude to Handel – Handel, a foreigner– has she shown anything like equal gratitude to as great, if not a greater genius, and that genius her own son?

Who ever loved England more dearly than Shakespeare? His was not merely the love of a son for his mother, but it was as tender as that of a mother for her son. His works are full of delicious passages, in which his patriotism becomes manifest. No corner of the globe has been sung by native poets as England has by Shakespeare. Many of you, I dare say, are familiar with that beautiful passage in "Richard II." He is describing England, and he says —

"This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress, built by Nature for herself,
Against infection and the hand of War;
This happy breed of men – this little earth;
This precious stone set in the silver sea."

Yes, Shakespeare so loved his country, that he divined by intuition the heart-anguish of those who have lost theirs. Romeo, when Friar Laurence tells him that he is banished from Verona, cries: —

"Ha! banishment? Be merciful; say death!
For exile hath more terror in his look;
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'

Friar.– Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Romeo.– There is no world outside Verona's walls!
Hast thou no poison mixed
To kill me? but 'banished!' 'banished!'
O Friar! the damned use that word in hell!"

He who spoke thus was Shakespeare, and yet his compatriots could not find the means of erecting a statue to him! Even at the present day in London, where you may find in every square a herd of dukes, to whom not even bronze can give celebrity, Shakespeare is nowhere to be found. His image remains shut up in Westminster Abbey, instead of being set upon a column whose height should dominate over the metropolis, as his genius dominates over the world.[6 - See Note, p. 92 (#Page_92).]

I must necessarily pass over much that is interesting in the life of Handel: recollect I have undertaken to give you only a "sketch," not a history. My sketch, however, would be incomplete did I overlook his greatest production, or his visit to "that generous and polite nation," as he was pleased to call Ireland, for which nation his masterpiece was composed, and in which it was first performed.

For a long time Handel had been wished for in Ireland. The Duke of Devonshire, the Lord Lieutenant of the country at that period, had directly invited him to pay a visit to the island, and the Irish professed great admiration for him.

Almost all the musical societies of Dublin, which were composed of amateurs, gave their entertainments for the furtherance of charitable objects. Handel put himself into communication with the most important of these, that "for the benefit and enlargement (freedom) of poor distressed prisoners for debt," and promised to give an oratorio for its benefit. For this society he composed the "Messiah," the masterpiece of this great master. Whoever has listened to his music will admit that its most distinctive character is the sublime. No one, without exception, neither Beethoven nor Mozart, has ever risen nearer to the grandeur of the ideal than Handel did, and he was never more sublime than in the "Messiah;" and, remembering this, read the dates which are inscribed with his own hand upon the manuscript: —

"Commenced 22nd August, 1741.

"End of 1st part, 28th August.

"End of 2nd, 6th September.

"End of 3rd, 12th September, 1741.

"Filled up on the 14th."

This Herculean work was therefore accomplished in twenty-three days; and Handel was then fifty-six years old!

It is a strange phenomenon: when men of genius are to die YOUNG, they complete their masterpieces at once. Mozart rendered up his soul at thirty-nine; Raphael painted "The School of Athens" at twenty-five, and "The Transfiguration" at thirty-seven; Paul Potter his "Bull" at twenty-two; Rossini composed "The Barber of Sevile" when he was twenty-three, "William Tell" at thirty-seven, and afterwards wrote no more. If these men had lived longer, it would have been impossible for them to surpass themselves.

Great artists, on the other hand, who are destined to have long lives are slow in production, or rather they produce their best things in the decline of life. Handel, e. g., composed his greatest works, "The Funeral Anthem," "Israel," "The Messiah," "Samson," "The Dettingen Te Deum," and "Judas Macabbeus," after he was fifty-two years old. Gluck had not composed one of his operas when he was fifty. Haydn was an old man of sixty-five when he produced the "Creation." Murillo became Murillo only at forty years of age. Poussin was seventy when he painted "The Deluge," which is the most poetically great of all his noble pictures. Michael Angelo counted more than sixty years when he encrusted his incomparable fresco, "The Last Judgment," upon the walls of the Sistine Chapel; and he was eighty-seven when he raised the cupola of St. Peter's to the heavens. And our own Milton was sixty-three when he wrote "Paradise Lost!"

But, to return – Handel set out on his journey and charitable mission, 4th August, 1741. It is to this journey Pope alludes in his "Dunciad: " —

"But soon, ah! soon, rebellion will commence,
If music meanly borrows aid from sense;
Strong in new arms, lo! giant Handel stands,
Like bold Briareus, with his hundred hands,
To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes,
And Jove's own thunders follow Mars' drums."

He was stayed by contrary winds in the ancient and picturesque city of Chester. Dr. Burney says, "I was at the public school in Chester, and very well remember seeing him smoke a pipe over a dish of coffee at the Exchange coffee house; and, being extremely curious to see so extraordinary a man, I watched him narrowly as long as he remained in Chester, where he stayed on account of the wind being unfavourable for his embarking at Park Gate."

Wishing to employ this delay in trying over some pieces of his new oratorio – the Messiah, he sought for some one who could read music at sight, and a house painter named Janson was indicated to him as one of the best musicians attached to the Cathedral. A meeting took place, but poor Janson managed so badly, that the irascible composer became purple with anger, and after swearing, as was his wont, in four or five languages at a time, cried out, "You Schountrel! tit you not tell me dat you could sing at soite?" "Yes sir," replied the good fellow, "but not at first sight." Handel upon this burst out laughing, and the rehearsal proceeded no further.

He arrived in Dublin on the 18th November, 1741. It was not till April following, however, that the Messiah was for the first time heard. In the Dublin papers of March 1742, the following advertisement appeared: —

"For the relief of the prisoners in the several gaols, and for the support of Mercer's Hospital; on Monday, the 12th April, will be performed at the Music Hall, in Fishamble-street, Mr. Handel's new grand Oratorio called the Messiah."

The performance having taken place, the newspapers vied with each other in commendation and praise. I give you an extract from one: —

"On Tuesday last, (the day I suppose was changed), Mr. Handel's sacred grand Oratorio, the Messiah, was performed in the New Music Hall, in Fishamble-street. The best judges allowed it to be the most finished piece of music. Words are wanted to express the delight it afforded to the admiring crowded audience. The sublime, the grand and the tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestic, and moving words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished heart and ear. It is but justice to Mr. Handel, that the world should know, he generously gave the money arising from this grand performance to be equally shared by the society for relieving prisoners, the Charitable Infirmary, and Mercer's Hospital, for which they will ever gratefully remember his name.

This is high encomium, but the audience paid him higher still. When the chorus all struck up, "For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth," in the Hallelujah, they were so transported that they all together started up and remained standing till the chorus ended."

A few days after the performance of the Messiah, Handel waited on Lord Kinnoul, with whom he was particularly acquainted. His Lordship, as was natural, paid him some compliments on the noble entertainment which he had lately given in the town. "My Lord, said Handel, I should be sorry if I only entertained them, I wish TO MAKE THEM BETTER."

The Messiah has remained the most popular of Oratorios. It is never announced in anything like a fitting manner without attracting the public. It invariably forms part of the programme at all the festivals, and the day on which it is performed is always the most productive. The Sacred Harmonic Societies particularly give it every year for the benefit of distressed musicians. Truly does it deserve the touching eulogy that "it has fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and fostered the orphans."

But I must hasten to a conclusion. Before I conclude this sketch of Handel, I must introduce you to one more of his Oratorios, "L'Allegro."

This magnificent composition has been eulogized by an eminent poet, – a beautiful pigeon! and an old parson! I will briefly tell you the eulogy of each, for brief is the eulogy itself.

The Poet having heard the oratorio performed, wrote thus: —

"If e'er Arion's music calm'd the floods
And Orpheus ever drew the dancing woods!
Why do not British trees and forest throng
To hear the sweeter notes of Handel's song?
This does the falsehood of the fable prove —
Or seas and woods when Handel harps would move."

The Pigeon. – "Let me wander not unseen," is considered one of Handel's finest inspirations. Hawkins says, "Of the air, the late Mr. John Lockman relates the following story, assuring his reader, that himself was an eye-witness to it," viz: —

"When at the house of Mr. Lee, a gentleman in Cheshire, whose daughter was a very fine performer on the harpsichord, he saw a pigeon which, whenever the young lady played this song, and this only, would fly from an adjacent dove-house to the window in the parlour where she sat, and listen to it with the most pleasing emotions, and the instant the song was over would fly away to her dove-house."[7 - See note, p. 93 (#Page_93).]